AtLast_[07]

For duty's worth I took her stand As though she were my wife. She was my own bridge to cross. I made a cross and charged head on, Unafraid of options lost, Doubtful any more would come. Bleating fete of mayhem, Bounding trodden hearts of souls who brought them, Tolls of rounds well spent, resounding, Echos of the strings of autumn. From Avranche her tresses shook me To the strains. I felt no pain

As her sorrow lifted, through me. We kissed and I moved on again. That Kluge of monsters sent to stop us Slain in kind as fury propped us. From taken grounds we disinterred The songs of life that once were heard.

Devils deaf to music's voices Favored ill in nature's choices,

As bleak autumnal changing winds Played out on sobbing violins.